My days are all out this week, sorry. I have proofread and edited but, as usual, apologise for any errors that may have slipped through the net. Thank you for reading and responding to the previous chapter.

Confrontation time!

CHAPTER 53

I

The Spanish Ambassador's temper had not been mollified by a night's sleep. Rather, it had festered as he tossed and turned, speculating on the reasons behind the delay in meeting with the King and convincing himself that what he had heard of the weak and pampered Louis must be true if the monarch could not rise above the incident on the way to Notre Dame. Another cause of his sleeplessness was his desire to find an alternate way of bringing any prospect of the treaty to an end; time and means were definitely against him now.

Remembering what Gallegos had said the previous evening, he had lain awake for hours as he calculated how they could turn events to their advantage and seek a cessation of the treaty as a result of the distrust that now existed between the two parties.

By the time he was breaking his fast, he had formulated an argument in his head that would press home his horror at the attack on a crowded street and enable him to level a charge against his hosts. It had, after all, led to the deaths and injuries of so many and it was only by a miracle that he and the Cardinal Infante had been spared.

Mentally rehearsing his points of grievance, he would begin by asking how he could, in all conscience, remain in the city any longer, potentially leaving himself and Ferdinand in mortal danger. It was clear to him that France had no intention of honouring the peaceful agreement. They pretended to be interested, but he suspected otherwise. Why were they not open with him and Spain and declare their change of mind? It would undoubtedly accelerate their path to war; it was inevitable, but they had been heading towards that outcome for some time now. No doubt the treacherous French had continued making substantial preparations for a conflict behind the scenes, hoping that in delaying the treaty's completion, they would catch the Spanish before they were ready.

Little did Louis know that de Calatrava and his like-minded companions had ensured that they were likewise readying their country for a confrontation. They were welcoming it, in fact. The Treaty was a disgrace, giving way far too much to the French in terms of expectations, trade negotiations and territory. Philip was a weak fool, easily swayed by those advocating a peaceful solution, no matter the cost to Spain, and blinded by his love of his sister. Had he forgotten that his own marriage to the French princess and that of Anne to Louis had been merely for a convenience that had obviously outlived its usefulness?

He was sharing his thoughts with Gallegos when there was a knock at the door. Waving a hand airily in the interpreter's direction, he was clearly expecting the little man to respond. What he was not anticipating was a message delivered on behalf of Louis.

Breaking the seal, he read it before commenting.

"It appears that His Majesty deigns to see me at ten of the clock," and he paused to glance at the small, gilded clock that stood upon its own table beside the fireplace. "That gives us under an hour. Time enough to formulate our argument."

II

Aramis finished securing the dressing and bandage around Athos' head and stood back to admire his work.

"The wounded hero!" he exclaimed lightly. "You will have the ladies of the court swooning in sympathy."

"I have no intention of meeting ladies of the court today. We have far more pressing business to attend to than attempting to turn heads," Athos grumbled.

His persistent headache was being controlled by another of Aramis' foul-tasting concoctions and he had made his opinions known, wondering loudly if the self-appointed medic could create anything beneficial to a hurting man that was also palatable. His argument, he claimed, was supported by the expression on Brondate's face in the opposite bed when he was forced to swallow the same draught to ease his pain.

Both the injured men – pale, clothed and bandaged – sat on the sides of their respective beds waiting for the signal that they were to leave for the palace. Athos insisted that he was going to ride, a determination that was taken up by Brondate.

"You are fools, the pair of you!" Aramis said angrily as he stood, arms folded, in the middle of the infirmary, glaring from one to the other and swiftly changing from French to Spanish as he lectured the pair. "The cart is hitched and ready to transport you. Do I have to remind you that less than thirty-six hours ago, the pair of you were unconscious? I don't know what you think you are trying to achieve!"

Athos slowly pulled himself up to stand straight and tall. He might be of a slighter build than Aramis, but he matched his brother in height and now copied his expression and posture.

"We are not trying to achieve anything. We are demonstrating that we are more than capable to be in that room when de Calatrava is confronted and physically able to withstand any lengthy questioning that might follow. Neither of us wishes to be reegarded as not being at our best and consequently seen as weak by the Ambassador."

"Not believed to be at your best!" Aramis was incredulous. "Have you seen yourselves in a looking glass today? You are bruised and cut, and I presume you have not taken to wearing bandages as some sort of strange fashion statement. Of course you are not at your best; that is plain for anyone to see!" He launched into a Spanish translation for Brondate's sake and listened to the Captain's response as he gestured towards Athos.

"What did he say?" Athos asked.

"Oh for goodness sake!" Aramis exclaimed. "Why can't you learn Spanish?" He rounded on Brondate and continued in the same language. "And why can't you learn French?" But Brondate shrugged his shoulders and shook his head so that Aramis had to repeat the question in Spanish for the man to understand.

Aramis was exasperated, that was very clear. Much of the previous evening had been spent acting as interpreter for Tréville and Brondate as the two Captains hesitantly discussed the importance of the Spaniard's testimony, the extent of de Calatrava's treachery and how events were likely to unfold at the Louvre. It had been an intense and lengthy exchange which had left Aramis exhausted and so his temper was still more than a little frayed when the new day began.

Brondate and Athos exchanged glances at the outburst and grinned, no words in any language needed to clarify their collusion, albeit unintentional, in annoying the Musketeer.

"That seems an unfair expectation and unlikely to be achieved with any speed," Tréville commented, overhearing the remarks as he entered the infirmary.

Aramis sighed heavily and ran a hand through his dark locks in frustration. "I cannot get it through to these two that they should go to the palace in the cart. I don't want them tiring themselves out or exacerbating their injuries."

"I accept that, and I am sure they appreciate your concern for their well-being, but we have no time for this now; we must leave," said Tréville.

Aramis opened his mouth to object that the Captain was overriding his decision regarding his patients, but Tréville raised a hand to silence him.

"You will both travel in the cart," the Captain ordered, addressing the two injured men, "and there's an end to it. The cart is ready outside; your horses are not, and I refuse to wait for them to be saddled."

His eyes narrowed as if daring Athos to protest but there was only silence. It seemed, thankfully for now, that the younger man had learned which battles to fight and which to let go.

Tréville rammed his hat on his head and turned to Aramis. "Now translate that for your Spanish friend."

III

The door of the Ambassador's suite of rooms opened and he emerged, only to be met by Porthos and several of his Musketeer colleagues. The two Spaniards who had originally been positioned there were skulking further down the corridor, outnumbered and eyeing the usurpers with undisguised suspicion.

Expecting to find only his own men guarding the entrance, de Calatrava was momentarily surprised, but he quickly recovered his composure as the French soldiers stood back to let him pass. His mood rapidly changed again though when they fell into step behind him. He stopped, glaring at the soldiers as he fired a stream of Spanish at his interpreter.

"His Excellency wants to know why you are here?" Gallegos asked, addressing Porthos who was standing the closest to the Ambassador.

"After what 'appened the day before yesterday, the Captain has increased security at the palace; 'e wants you to feel safe movin' about the Louvre," Porthos explained, repeating what he had been instructed to say if such a question were to be asked. He certainly was not going to say that the primary reason was to make sure that the Ambassador 'didn't decide to leave without sayin' goodbye.' That was his description of the task when Tréville issued it to him.

The group, with Porthos assuming the lead and de Calatrava immediately behind him, moved quickly along the corridors to the King's receiving room. They did not even break step as they approached the doors for Musketeers were on duty and opened them for the advancing men.

The Ambassador strode into the room, a smile fixed on his face as he bowed low to Louis who was sitting on a dais and watching him intently, his own expression devoid of a warm welcome. The atmosphere in the room was charged, completely different from when he initially arrived. As he straightened, the doors closed firmly behind him and de Calatrava whirled around at the noise that broke the quiet.

The Musketeers who had escorted him had positioned themselves at intervals along the rear wall whilst others had taken up positions at two more sets of doors that gave access to the large room. The Ambassador frowned; their number seemed excessive, and they were all heavily armed as usual. He glanced around to see who else of note was present apart from the King.

Richelieu stood close to one side of Louis whilst Captain Tréville stood further away near a wall on the other side. All three looked grim and de Calatrava felt the first stirrings of disquiet; this was not a meeting commencing with the usual pleasantries then. Still, he had to make some attempt.

"I trust that Your Majesty has quite recovered from the dreadful events of two days ago."

"Thank you. I am quite well," Louis responded but with little grace.

A heavy silence settled in the room and the Ambassador wondered what was expected of him. Was Louis going to say something else? It was not de Calatrava's place to open a discussion but as all eyes were fixed on him, his sense of unease escalated and, in a moment of recklessness, he opted for the offensive rather than the defensive.

"I am pleased that Your Majesty has at last granted me an audience," he began, Gallegos immediately supplying an interpretation. "I have had plenty of time to think about the disturbing events and wonder that such a blatant attack could be perpetrated against myself and the Cardinal Infante. Such an aggressive act jeopardises the treaty."

Gallegos attempted to portray the Ambassador's haughtiness, but he could have saved himself the effort for there was no mistaking de Calatrava's mood and implied threat. He was holding the French to blame.

Louis looked to Richelieu who stepped forward and spoke, his words slow and clear, his tone bordering on impertinence.

"I quite agree, Ambassador. It was an aggressive act but none of our doing, I assure you. I must ask, therefore, what is it about the treaty that you dislike so much?"

Gallegos hesitated before passing on the comment and it took a moment for the Cardinal's meaning to penetrate for de Calatrava so that he glared at the little man in the belief that he had inaccurately relayed the message but, when Gallegos shook his head slightly, the Ambassador's jaw dropped.

"What are you saying? Do you think that I had anything to do with it? This is an outrage and an insult to Spain and me. I refuse to listen to such a slur," and he turned to leave.

"Musketeers!" The single word was all that was needed from Tréville and weapons were simultaneously drawn from sheaths in one, heart-stopping move as all exits were blocked.

"You will stay where you are, de Calatrava!" Richelieu's voice sounded above everything, all semblance of courtesy gone. "You are responsible for the attempt on the life of the Cardinal Infante and on French soil; there was no risk to yourself, you saw to that. In addition, I charge you with being behind the assassination of your predecessor, Ambassador Mendez, also on French soil; both atrocities were intended to break down any cordial relationships between our two countries."

The accusation levelled, de Calatrava's face darkened. "This is preposterous! You hurl unfounded charges at me to deflect from your own guilt. You have no proof of any of this."

Richelieu's eyes narrowed, his countenance dangerous. "Oh, but I have; I most definitely have," and he nodded towards Tréville who moved to open the door near him and then stood aside to allow someone to enter.

Athos was the first to appear and de Calatrava did not react. It was yet another Musketeer, the significance of his presence totally lost on the Spaniard.

Then Brondate entered and moved to stand beside the French soldier, their injuries apparent. At first, the Ambassador seemed pleased to see that his Captain had survived but then a third, unfamiliar man walked in and moved to take up position with the other two.

Ignorant of whatever evidence the three could supply, he was readying himself to object vociferously when there was a strangled cry from Gallegos. Rounding on the interpreter, the Ambassador saw that the man's face was ashen, his eyes wide in terror, for the newcomer was obviously no stranger to him.

"You!" Gallegos gasped, unable to contain himself.

Instinctively, de Calatrava knew that, try as he might, there would be no successful bluffing his way out of this situation, no outraged denial that would suffice.

If the evidence presented were not enough, then by his reaction and the single word he had uttered, Gallegos had unwittingly condemned them both.